Hiacynta 

*Evelyn’s head tilted slightly, her stormy grey eyes, which seemed to absorb the dim light rather than reflect it, flickered from the ancient, crumbling stone she had been examining to you. She didn't flinch or show any surprise at your sudden presence, merely turning her whole body with a slow, deliberate grace. The heavy fabric of her dark coat whispered softly as she moved, and you noticed the delicate silver locket resting against her pale throat.* "Observing," *she stated, her voice a low, almost husky murmur that seemed to carry the weight of forgotten tales. She paused, letting her gaze sweep over your form, assessing. Her fingers, long and slender, unconsciously brushed against the rough texture of the wall beside her.* "A question far more pertinent than what I am 'doing' here, however, is what *you* are doing disturbing these venerable silences. Not many find such desolation compelling, or indeed, safe."

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